


And A Million Miles To Go

by ishie



Category: The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic - Emily Croy Barker
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2863178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishie/pseuds/ishie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Aruendiel lied. That was no secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And A Million Miles To Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Odyle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odyle/gifts).



> I had no idea it would be so impossible to get these dummies to make out. I'M ZORRY.

Aruendiel did not think of Nora.

He did not think of her when he forgot to tend the fire and it died in the hearth. He did not wonder what she was doing whenever he opened a book. The drizzling mist that came early in the mornings did not remind him of her, nor did he turn to ask her a question as he ate his meals alone.

Nora did not figure into any of his plans. She was not lurking behind his every thought: how she was, where she was. Was her family so glad to have her home that they did not ask questions? Or could they not stop asking now that she was safe? How did she fare in her world after so long away? Had she found a means to remove Raclin's ring, there in that land where her magic was so weak? Did someone watch over her the way they ought? Did she think of him?

He was so busy not thinking of Nora that he had a candle in hand and stepped into the charcoal circle before he knew what he'd done.

So Aruendiel lied, even to himself. That was no secret.

The barn—the corrage, had she called it?—was the same: a smooth, polished floor and the detritus of life strewn about with the barest semblance of order. There were two vehicles here now. The low-slung one he had seen before gleamed like moonlight. Beside it was one much larger, more like a covered wagon with many windows. The vehicles he remembered from his time in this world were more like this one, though they had at least had some elegance to their silhouettes.

He held up his candle. The world outside the circle of his light was grey and tenuous, constantly shifting its boundaries to try to resolve him within them. He told Nora that they could travel briefly between worlds thanks to the observation spell, but the truth was more complicated. Nansis' work _was_ good, but it wasn't Blueskin's. It wouldn't let them pass into another world, even only to look. Their brief journey had been of his own devising—a tremendous feat he should never have attempted once, let alone repeated.

At least this time she was not with him. It was easier to keep his own light steady when he didn't have to worry about hers. Unlike Nora, for whom it was greedy, this world was in no hurry to reclaim him.

Around the barn's outer walls were several doors to choose from: one large enough to allow both vehicles to enter; another at the far end, with a mullioned window that looked out onto what might have been a garden; and the third, nearer to hand, which was solid and brightly painted and through which Nora led him on their last visit. Aruendiel went through it now and up the few steps into the kitchens, which were nothing compared to his own. The remnants of a meal littered the tabletop; a bright and sturdy bag hung from the back of one of the chairs. Inside it, he saw several thick books with shiny spines. He would have liked to see if he could read the names on them, but his candle would burn only so long.

The room where Nora's father had argued with his child was empty, as were the next several Aruendiel went into. Shadows moved outside the windows but he could not tell what they were from inside the circle of his spell. He stood at the top of the stairs, looking at the open doors of Nora's sisters' rooms. Pale light trickled from them to splash at his feet.

Aruendiel sat on the top step and rested his hands on his knees. What a waste this was.

Something brushed against his back, then the cat came around his hip and stepped onto his leg. Aruendiel moved his candle out of the way. The cat sat, curled its tail over its front paws, and looked him in the face.

"They're not gone long," the cat told him. "Will you wait?"

"My time is short."

The cat swished its tail. "Tell me about it," it muttered.

"I should thank you," it said, after another moment. "I eat fresh fish now. It's the big-footed one's doing. She says I complain too much."

"The big-footed one?"

"The one you brought." The cat's whiskers twitched at the look on Aruendiel's face. A thick, satisfied purr started in its chest. "The one you want."

Aruendiel didn't insult either of them by denying it. 

"Is she here?" he asked.

"She left."

Already bored by the conversation, the cat started to bathe. One paw, then the other, quick swipes up and over its cheeks and ears. It balanced itself by flexing claws into Aruendiel's thigh when it rocked slightly.

Aruendiel waited. 

It was quiet inside the circle of candlelight. Once or twice he saw the cat's ears twitch toward the source of some noise he could not himself hear. The rug beneath him was thick but he scarcely felt it. From the older girl's room came the faint smell of burnt herbs of some kind. 

This home seemed peaceful and warm. He was accustomed to solitude, but being here alone... There was an emptiness that pulsed in his ears. True magic was unnatural here, true, but in the cities he had seen magical energy shimmering in the air like stars. It was powerful but unfocused and artificial, a quickly decaying byproduct of the machines. Neglected, unseen. Even so, everywhere he turned he had felt those faint threads of magic and history. He spent long nights walking the streets to follow the traces of other magicians who had come before him. 

Here, there was nothing. Not even the disconcerting glow he'd come to associate with Nora's fumbling attempts.

The candle guttered briefly, as if in a wind Aruendiel couldn't feel. Hot wax spattered onto his hand. The cat flicked a look down the stairs and turned back to him. Its purr returned.

"Will you take her?" it asked slyly.

"This is no door," he explained. 

If any cat could roll its eyes, it was this one. "I meant the other. You reek of it. Another tom scratching at her door."

Of course he did. Why else had he come? Why had he worked the spell again, to see her happily restored to her world? It would do him no good to see her among her people. She had given up magic, gave it up willingly, even. She left him. He had pushed her to do it, with every dismissal, every pretense at impassivity when what he truly wanted was to pull her into his room, into his bed, beneath him—and never let her leave. It seemed impossible that he managed to stay away this long.

He had not stopped thinking of Nora—had not stopped longing for her, watching for her, _hoping_ for her—not for one moment in all these long days.

"Wanting is not doing," he told the cat. 

"Pussy," the cat hissed. It jumped from his lap and glided down the stairs, until the greyness swallowed it whole. But its voice came floating back to where Aruendiel sat. "She thinks herself a hunter. All I smell is prey. Which will she be?"

Aruendiel brushed the hair off his leg and waited to see if the cat would return. When his candle had burned down to the last bit of wax, he let the flame diminish and stepped out of the charcoal circle. The floorboards of his study creaked under his feet for a moment, and then he was striding down the tower stairs. Nearly running, truth be told, on aching knees and clicking ankles.

 _Move with purpose_ , he had told her, and so would he.

"Lolona!" he shouted. "Lolona, tell your father to meet me in the wood. Tell him to bring the youngest of the lambs and his sturdiest axe. We have work tonight!"


End file.
